Your companions may be distraught--The ones you sit at dinner with--When they learn that your seat has broughtA bit of a smelly whiff!

When you pass the age of twelve,Should people think you have not just aged another year,But acquired a new and old-fashioned profession?You've become a teen who trades in animal pelts,a “fur-teen”?

Apollo killed the pythonSo his advice is “pithy”But its gravitas is goneAnd it doesn't sound too spiffy,This smelly turd, this highly iffyWeakened word called “piffy.”

What if Shakespeare wrote an Ode to TheeBut you thought that you owed a fee!

If you try to sell a widget,And say that the cost is 3,Your income becomes a midget.Your customer heard that it's free.

Your bank account will sufferYour life will end in shameAnd it's your own lazy pufferAnd your sloppy tongue to blame.

It's a matter of harmony or strife--Whether you and your wifeThought over somethingor fought over something!

After all: What does Thorswing his hammer for?

Now this compulsive “F”--Is it some kind of thrillOf the highest order?Or is it just a frill,A delicate little border?

Living on the edge,And decorating it,Are two. different. things.

Just how are people to knowIf you are “froufrou” through and through?

Are you a manbearing it out through thick and thin?Or a fickle fishflapping a dorsal fin?

You're all setOn the first day of ChristmasAs long as you feel no thirst.Luckily, on the secondYour problem is not the worst.

Did you know that in urban slang,A “ferd” means a man with no sense?Don't be one on the Third.Or any other day, preferred.

After bird calls on the fourth,I'm afraid your tongue will be too tiedto garner any golden rings on the fi-f-th,any laying geese on the sixthany swimming swans on the seventhany milking maids on the eighthany dancing ladies on the ninthany leaping lords on the tenthany piping pipers on the eleventhand certainly your tongue will not be ready to call forany drumming drummers on the twel-f-th!

Perhaps some are too busyPutting their tongue in their cheekTo put it between their teethOr should I say “tief,”The German word for “deep”?Which also sounds suspiciously like “thief”But I guess that should be “feef”But up this, I cannot keep.

Forgive me if I be so boldAs to chide and act the scoldBut this thing is growing like a moldAnd people need to be told.

To save the clarity of language,Just apply a little bandage.Because we have good reason to fretOver such an imminent threat.